Whole Again
by bmo-galaxy
Summary: Winry is doing some repairs to Ed's automail, and like always, he complains about the re-connection of the nerves. Little does Winry know that there's a deeper reason behind Edward's hatred of the process, beyond a little bit of physical pain.


"I have to admit, it's weird to just be doing routine maintenance on your automail instead of a total redesign. I can't remember a time when you didn't come home or call me over broken automail," she said, her smile genuine. She oiled the port where Ed's leg attached carefully before wiping at a screw so she could tighten it evenly. Ed huffed from above her and she felt him shift to cross his arms defensively over his chest.

"It's pretty easy to keep it nice when there aren't a 101 people coming after you," he grumbled. Winry giggled at the comment and smacked his knee playfully.

"You know for a fact that you started most of the fights you were in," she pointed out. She turned as she spoke, preparing his automail for attachment. Whatever comment Ed had died in his throat as his wife positioned the automail carefully, rotating it gently so that it snapped in correctly.

"I hate this part," he groaned, the slightest hint of real dread lining his voice. Winry gave him a sympathetic kiss on the cheek, patting his knee gently.

"I know you do, but it'll be over in two seconds and then you can get out of my hair while I work," she reassured cheerfully. The mechanic shuffled through tools until she found the right torque wrench for the job. She knelt next to his outstretched leg gripping his thigh tightly to keep him from moving.

"On three?" she asked. Ed swallowed thickly and nodded, closing his eyes tightly and bracing for the pain. Winry and Granny always told him that it would hurt less if he relaxed, but he'd never been able to rid himself of the tension that ran through his body every time they did this.

"Ready?"

"Ready," he breathed, even though he was the farthest thing from ready for this. Winry frowned at him, despite the fact that he couldn't see her, and nodded back at him.

"One, two, three!" With a quick twist, the nerve connection was complete, sending electric signals up and down Ed's leg. His whole body seized for a moment, memories flashing behind his eyelids. He clenched his teeth and groaned loudly at the sensation, but it passed quickly. He released the breath he was holding in a heavy sigh and rubbed at the end of his stump where his leg met the metal of his prosthetic.

"I'll never get used to that," he commented softly, staring at his automail. Winry watched him for a moment, taking in his serious tone, before she shrugged.

"I'll have to do that for the rest of our lives, so you'd best get used to it eventually."

"It's not the pain that bothers me," he replied quickly, his voice a sharp combination of tired and irritated. Winry stared at him, shocked for a moment, before her brow puckered. She put her hands on her hips defiantly and grimaced.

"What about it bothers you then?" she demanded, curiosity and worry piqued. Ed could see the tell tale signs of stubbornness in the set of her jaw and the angle of her back. She wasn't going to back down until she had an answer. Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, the man sighed and sat back on the couch.

"Every time you reattach the nerves, it feels the same as Truth taking my leg from me. It's the same as when I left the Portal and realized I'd lost my leg." He looked down at his right arm and clenched his hand into a tight fist. The skin around his knuckles turned white under the strain. "Every time we do this, I'm right back in that basement. The smell, the feelings, the sights. It's all right there again!" A shudder ran from the top of his spine down to his toes, bile rose in the back of his throat. He could smell the overpowering stench of blood and decay, hear the gasping moans and hissing of the thing they'd created, feel his heart clench and his eyes widen at the small pile of clothes with no Alphonse in sight. Ed trembled, caught up in the memory of dragging his body across the floor, breaking and cracking fingernails as he went. The sheer desperation behind knocking the suit over and trying to remember the circle he could use for a seal. Hoping, begging, pleading that he wasn't too late to save his brother, to save Al.

Winry stared at him helplessly, remembering all the offhanded comments about the re-connection of the nerves being the worst part of the process. She'd had other patients say so as well, she'd never thought that there would be more too it than a little bit of inconvenient pain. She walked over to him slowly, kneeling in front of his knees and resting her head on his thigh. Ed played with her hair in silence, taking in the comfort she was offering him. Her presence slowly pulled him out of the memory. The smell of her shampoo washed over him in calming waves and her fingers tracing mindlessly against his knee sent tingles up his nerves to replace the tremors.

They both knew there was nothing for her to do or say that could erase the memories of what Ed had seen and done. The pain had left scars and those scars would fade, but never disappear. All she could do was ease the pain of those memories and nightmares, remind him that they'd done what they set out to and righted their mistakes. Despite the loss they had faced and the struggle they had been put through, despite the people that had died and the limbs that could never be recovered, they had come out the other side victorious. They were all- somewhat- whole again. And in the end, that's all that really mattered.


End file.
